


light the way back home

by chinarai



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Mutual Pining, POV Keith (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), SHEITH - Freeform, Spoilers, because in this house we like to suffer, post season 6 so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-05-23 16:31:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14937885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinarai/pseuds/chinarai
Summary: It’s a long way, but Keith doesn’t mind it, not in the least, not when Shiro’s body is curled into his own.





	1. baby, i just survive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the wildest week of my life. Between E3, a new Gorillaz song and season 6, I don't know what got me screaming more. So um HEY I know it's early, it's sudden, but I've been awake for nearly 23 hours with no chances of getting any sleep anytime soon bc I can't calm down after that wild ride, so I wrote a little something.
> 
> Title is, supposedly, from the new Gorillaz song, Fire Flies. Kinda melancholic and doesn't really fit this, but I'm in love with it
> 
> I hope you'll like it!

It’s a long way home. Keith’s weariness only makes the trip stretch out for much longer, seemingly endless, but he doesn’t mind it, not in the least, not when Shiro’s body - the real Shiro - is curled into his own as he pilots Black with only one hand.

The steady rise and fall of his chest is comforting in Keith’s arm, as is Shiro’s warm breath fanning a patch of skin that’s bare in his neck. He’s been unconscious since they took off, and Krolia had only half-heartedly offered to look after him, fully aware that Keith would decline.

His arm tightens around Shiro unconsciously, pulling him closer, and beneath Keith’s palm, his heart beats, beautifully alive.

Krolia sits somewhere behind his seat, methodically sharpening a blade that doesn’t need any sharpening, but it’s only an act, a way to keep her focus somewhere but on them. Keith is deeply grateful for that and for what feels like the tenth time in a minute, resists the urge to dip his head down and bury his nose in Shiro’s hair or kiss his forehead.

Their pet wolf struts to his side, peering up at him with his ever expressive eyes. Keith smiles down at him, releases the control to give his midnight fur a good ruffle, scratches him beneath the chin, and the actions seem to quench his need for attention. With a slight wag of his tail, he walks towards Krolia and lies by her side with his characteristic heavy sigh, settling down for a nap.

Keith takes a moment to check their trajectory and shares a few words with the rest of the team before turning off communication and slumping slightly on his seat. He knows Black will keep on moving in a straight line, so he allows himself to wrap both arms around Shiro and get him as close as he possibly can.

The seat is small for the both of them, Shiro on his lap, legs dangling off the side. Keith glides his fingertips along his bare arm, wistfully wishing his hands could be bare as well so he could feel the warmth of Shiro’s skin against his own. They ghost over his neck and touch his hair with care. It will take some time getting used to the new color, but Keith would love him all the same, even if he dyed his hair electric blue.

Whatever color is fine, as long as it’s _Shiro_ that’s with him.

Keith touches his sharp jaw, strokes along it with his thumb from chin to ear, staring at the motion with half-lidded eyes. He did really say that, did really voice his thoughts aloud. He wonders briefly if Shiro somehow remembers them, if Shiro knows he will go to great lengths to ensure he’s safe. Keith will do anything to keep him from harm, will do anything and everything in his power to make Shiro happy.

His heart aches in a good way, somehow, and Keith faintly feels like he could cry in relief.

He looks up at the controls, reaches out for his friends, once again makes sure they haven’t strayed off path. It seems redundant, but Keith wants to get to Earth as soon as possible so Shiro can rest on a real bed, however dusty his modest shack in the desert is after long months of abandonment.

When he looks back down, Shiro is awake. It catches Keith off guard, but he masks it well and takes in the clearness of his eyes, as if Shiro hadn’t been sleeping for the past hour. Keith smiles down at him, feeling somewhat shy, and whispers. “Hey.”

Shiro breathes in deeply, lets it out in a long sigh and curls his lips. “Hey.”

The smile is small and just as intimate as the way they gaze at each other. Keith traces it with the pad of his thumb and Shiro’s lips part as his eyes slip shut. “How are you feeling?”

Behind them, Krolia doesn’t show signs that she can hear them in the quietness of the cockpit interlaced with strokes of metal on stone.

“Tired,” Shiro says with a huff of breath that Keith takes as a laugh. “Sorta feels like I’m jetlagged.”

Keith chuckles, sweeps his thumb along a silver eyebrow. “Go back to sleep, Shiro.”

“I don’t want to.” His hand lifts from where it rests over his stomach and slowly travels to Keith’s chest, pressing flat and soft on his sternum. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

Never before had Keith seen Shiro’s big hands as anything close to delicate, but in the state he’s in now, that’s what it seems like. The touch is featherlight, his movements are slow. He’s exhausted in ways Keith can’t describe, and he finds comfort in knowing that now he’s back where he belongs.

He takes his hand, feels his knuckles beneath his thumb. No amount of touching Shiro seems to be enough. It had never been, but now in the wake of everything, stopping seems impossible.

Keith kisses his knuckles, turns his hand over so he can plant his lips on his palm. Shiro’s eyes widen and then drop, suspiciously bright and watery. “Sleep.” He presses again, and his heart swells with affection at the way Shiro looks at him. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

 


	2. just stay with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’ll have to talk eventually. About everything that happened, about all that’s happening right now, unresolved issues, confessions, feelings. All of that can wait a little longer, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a series, but I decided to compile everything in just one work, and I still haven't read it again to check for mistakes so, apologies. Here's part of the original a/n:
> 
> \- from what I've seen and understand, the desert shack is separate from from the childhood home. So we're going to pretend the shack was where Keith's dad kept things related to the lion (because when I was looking for more info some time ago, I found a theory that mentioned he knew about it - and yeah, well, he does lmao)
> 
> \- Changed the wolf's name from Yorak to Kosmo
> 
> Title's from Fall Out Boy's Jet Pack Blues.

“It looks just as I remember.”

Yes, it does look the same, just as Keith remembers from the memories they shared in the Quantum Abyss. Years of neglect didn’t change it much, aside from the chipped paint and the precarious state of the already broken fence, though they still have to check the inside and take in how dusty it must be.

The original plan had been to go to his desert shack that, actually, isn’t so far away from his childhood home, but coming back here when he’d lost everything he had left, namely Shiro and his place in the Garrison, wasn’t appealing back then. Krolia had suggested coming here, and he wasn’t so opposed to the idea since a bigger place would accomodate them all better than his one-room shack ever could.

The door opens with a loud whine of protest and Krolia sweeps into the room like a hurricane, patting dust away from the couch before Keith places a drowsy Shiro on it. The small living room is crowded with people, all of which look at Shiro with some wonder on their faces still. He’s awake, but too disoriented to do much, and rubs at his face tiredly before falling asleep again, a cycle that’s been going on for days.

Keith finds his voice and breaks the team into smaller groups to get some tasks done. They’re all exhausted, with bags and shadows under their eyes despite the breaks they took in random planets to get some sleep, but there’s much that needs to be done. He fishes a jar from a shelf and passes it to Hunk and Lance with instructions to get the red hoverbike up and running from the shack, and to go into town to buy supplies, as many as they can with the money inside the jar. Pidge returns to the Green Lion to contact the Coalition and check up on Matt. Krolia and Romelle wash as many old sheets, blankets and clothes as they can and then tackle the kitchen to wash plates, cutlery, pots and things alike.

Coran and Allura offer to help Keith tidy up the rest of the house. He doesn’t know much about Allura’s past and and doubts she ever had to sweep and polish floors, but she does her best, cleaning every single trinket on the shelves with a rag and a lot of patience. Both Alteans take turns in asking him questions about things they find lying around and Keith seizes the distraction instead of desperately trying to form a plan.

They need a plan, but they just got Shiro back and he needs to recover. Keith thinks the team won’t be opposed to taking a short break, just two or three days, just a little so they can take a breath, so he can be sure this is real and not a dream.

Outside, the hoverbike roars and the duo continues to drive away towards the city.

The loud noise is enough to snap Shiro awake with a jolt where he sits sprawled on the couch. The three of them are upon him in the same instant, trying to not crowd him and yet too worried to stay away. He's been slipping in and out of consciousness for the last hour, making a visible effort to stay awake, but only managing to keep his eyes open for about a minute before sleep claims him again.

This time, though, he remains awake. Keith wishes he could have woken up on his own, without the revving of the bike to disrupt his sleep and shatter his dreams abruptly. It sent his heart rate skyrocketing and it shows on his face. That had been Lance, certainly. He is going to get an earful from either Keith or Allura by the time they come back.

Shiro deflates once he recognizes their faces, slumping on the thin cushion with a weary sigh. Kosmo comes running inside from wherever he’s been exploring, weaving through their legs before settling beside Keith.

“How do you feel?” Allura asks as she sinks slowly by his side, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Better now.” With perfect timing, Romelle comes from the kitchen with two glasses of water in hand, which he drinks quickly. “For how long was I asleep?”

“Quite a few days, young man.” Coran supplies and gives Romelle a grateful nod as she returns to the adjacent room. “It would be ideal to have something to eat, but Hunk and Lance have yet to return.”

Shiro shrugs halfheartedly. “I’m not hungry.” And then he’s looking at Keith as he says, “Can we go outside?”

No one objects. If he wanted to go out on his own, if he _could_ , they wouldn’t say anything, yet he asks Keith to accompany him and Coran consents because there isn’t much left to do in the house anyway, and who are they to deny him anything now? Allura lingers by Shiro’s side as he stands, steady, firm hands on his arm to help him up, and waves them off as they exit, his arm slung around Keith’s shoulder as they walk outside.

The sky is alive with a splash of colors as the sun dips in the horizon. Pidge walks up to them on her way back from Green, smiling wide as they slow to a stop. “Good to see you up, Shiro.” She hugs him, tender and brief. “I’ve contacted Matt. Once he’s close enough, I’m going up to get him.”

Keith nods. “Thanks, Pidge.”

With a thumbs up, she goes inside the house. He’s sure they all have a lot of things they want to ask Shiro, but they also understand his need to take a breath of fresh air and sort things out on his own.

They don’t go very far. It reminds Keith of when they stood outside his shack once, months ago at the crack of dawn, when Shiro had been recovered from the Galra ship after his disappearance. He observes the man in question in silence, only half registering Kosmo’s quick steps as he runs towards Kaltenecker somewhere to their right.

There’s a lot to absorb and make up for, and Keith can’t begin to fathom how hard it must be for Shiro to be here now, wind in his hair, sun on his face, so many sounds and so many smells, so many things he hasn’t felt since the second time he went missing. Shiro doesn’t say much, just stands there on his own, casually shifting his weight around to feel the sand accommodate to his movements beneath the soles of his shoes, his way of masking the subtle swaying of his body. Sometimes Keith can hear his deep intake of breath and the long exhale that follows. He looks at Shiro and sees him with eyes closed savoring it all and then with eyes open to take it in.

The bike hums in the distance, parks smoothly before the porch. Hunk and Lance don’t call out to them, but acknowledge Keith with a wave and join everyone else inside, bags and more bags of food and supplies in their arms. It’s a good thing Keith never took anything from this house before he left, not even the jar full of bills of low value and change he saved throughout all his years spent here.

Now it’s just the both of them outside. Them and the darkening sky. Shiro looks up to see the first stars blink to life and Keith takes his time to watch his profile. Not for the first time, he wonders if Shiro remembers, if he retained his clone’s memories, if he recalls the few minutes he spent awake on Keith’s lap on their way back to Earth, the way he’d smiled softly, the way Keith had kissed his hand.

Shiro turns to him, catches him staring, and his lips curl pleasantly. Keith half expects him to place a hand on his shoulder, but Shiro offers his hand instead, waits for him to take it, weaves their fingers together when Keith does. As Shiro tugs him closer, Keith muses on the different ways of hand holding. There’s when you wrap your fingers around someone’s hand so you won’t get lost, and then there’s this, fingers fitting perfectly into gaps, tips pressing into knuckles. A stronger grip harder to break, like their bond, he thinks, unbreakable even after all they went through.

They’ll have to talk eventually. About everything that happened, about all that’s happening right now, unresolved issues, confessions, _feelings_. Shiro releases Keith’s hand and instead places it on his waist, caresses his way to his back, pulling the smaller, but stronger body closer, and Keith returns the hug just as tightly.

All of that can wait a little longer, though.


	3. melt your headaches, call it home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given that I'm just reposting pieces from a series in a single fic, this should've been done much, much sooner. Apologies for that! Sometimes I just.. forget.
> 
> As it is, I'm in a writer's block right now, so I thought it would be a good idea to look through old fics and revise them and WELL I found this. So here, enjoy! 
> 
> Title from Panic! at the Disco's Nothern Downpour

Keith finds himself in the kitchen later, helping Hunk prepare dinner. He's an average cook, able to whip up something edible, but not as tasty and presentable as Hunk can. He busies himself with washing and chopping produce as his friend tends to the pots on the stove. Kosmo lies by the doorway, eyes closed but ears open for the possibility of snatching a piece of anything that might fall from the counter. 

As much as he and everyone else are worried, they give Shiro some space so he won't feel worse about the ordeal than he already does, and it's much easier to leave his side when Keith has something to focus on. Even if Shiro tries to hide it, Keith can read how unhappy he is with how the conflict ended and often tries to keep the right side of his face turned away so Shiro won't have to stare at the scar and feel misplaced guilt choking him. He's in the living room right now, and Keith can hear as they talk about anything but the clone and Lotor and Haggar. 

He thinks Allura is infinitely grateful for the distraction, too. 

Krolia comes inside through the backdoor from her walk, nods at them on her way to the living room to begin the sleeping arrangements. They have two bedrooms and a single bathroom in the hallway upstairs. Allura is ushered to shower first, then Romelle and finally Coran. Pidge teaches them how to use the shower, an antique model even for Earth standards that certainly seems ancient to the technologically advanced people of Altea.

It feels good to sit on the floor of the living room and eat from a chipped plate in the company of people he hasn't seen in two years. Mealtime on their way to Earth was often rushed, and back in the Quantum Abyss it was a quiet affair. The atmosphere is light and the home cooked meal warms them and eases the group into a state of relaxation. Lance cracks a joke and Keith feels hot inside when Shiro allows himself to laugh at it throatily, however brief it lasts. 

Coran washes the dishes as Romelle and Allura put them away. The rest of the team prepares for bed, and both Keith and Krolia agree to be the last ones to shower as they slip into the master bedroom to arrange the few stuff they brought. Krolia pats a pile of old clothes his father had, freshly washed and dried, and the gesture seems so full of longing and affection that Keith turns away. 

“Mom, please.” He says when Krolia settles herself on the thick, folded blanket that serves as a makeshift mattress. “Take the bed, I'll sleep on the ground.”

It had taken time for him to call her mom, and ever since the first time, back on that whale, she still looks at him with so much love in her eyes that it makes him want to squirm. “Keith, baby, Shiro’s going to sleep on the bed. I'm not going to share it with him.” 

His neck feels like it’s burning and he groans into his hand. Their bond grew as they shared memories, most of which included Shiro, and it led to Krolia shooting him pointed glances until he understood what she’d been trying to imply. He neither confirmed nor declined her unvoiced question, but knew that she knew the answer already. Sharing a bed with Shiro would've been so much easier if he hadn't realized how he felt and hadn't confessed, even if it hadn't been to  _ him. _

She must have seen something on his face, read something in his posture, because she's near him suddenly, smoothing his hair away from his face before pulling him into a hug. “It will be okay, Keith. Whatever happens, it'll be okay.”

A hesitant knock on the door makes them pull apart. Shiro, only half dressed, gives them a sheepish smile and Krolia excuses herself to the bathroom, leaving with a change of clothes tucked under her arm. At a loss of what to do, Keith tells him to pick a side on the bed and looks through the change of clothes already set aside to sleep in. Shiro is wearing grey sweatpants, holding a washed out blue shirt in his hand, a damp towel draped around his shoulders. These articles are going to be added to his temporary wardrobe, unlike the black vest that once belonged to his father and became one of Shiro’s favorite pieces. 

“Where's your mom going to sleep?”

“The floor,” Keith replies without looking him in the eye. “She insists on it.”

“Oh.”

Oh indeed. 

Keith pushes all of it aside - doubts he hadn’t had to worry about before, feelings that took him so long to come to terms with - for Shiro’s sake. Things can’t get weird just because they’re going to share a bed when he piloted Black with Shiro on his lap and they held hands together outside mere hours ago.

And besides, Shiro needs help. Keith knows how to read him well, maybe knows Shiro better than Keith knows himself, and so it’s easy to tell when something is off. Shiro’s got that look on his face that says he wants to ask for help, but also doesn’t want to seem weak because he’s a natural born leader, and it hurts Keith a little that he’s hesitating to ask him to lend a hand. Maybe it’s everything that happened, Keith muses. Maybe it’s the fight he’s avoided talking about.  Maybe he shouldn’t have left him alone in the bathroom after all, but hadn’t wanted to make Shiro feel like he couldn’t handle himself. 

Keith approaches him in three strides. His hair is dripping wet, drops falling on the beige of the towel, and Keith dries the silver strands, painted yellow under the artificial, cozy light. Taller now, his forehead is aligned with Shiro’s lips. If he were to lean forward, he could kiss Keith’s forehead easily. 

He shoves the thought aside, tosses the towel on the bed carelessly, and helps Shiro slip into the long sleeved shirt. Keith smiles through the process, letting it widen when they’re done and Shiro gives him a nod and a smile in return. 

Krolia comes into the room, Kosmo in tow, and Keith takes his leave. He washes himself as quickly and thoroughly as he can, both because he’s dead on his feet and the water is so cold it reminds him of the bodies of water in that space whale’s back. He thought he’d be used to it by now, but apparently being around technology for a while got him unnaccustomed far too quickly. His dad’s clothes are still oversized on his body, the sleeves too long for his arms and the pants drag across the floor, but it’s all he has until he goes shopping for clothes. 

His mother is already asleep when he returns, Kosmo curled by her side. Shiro has picked his side of the bed, the one closest to the door, back turned to it as he looks at the stars out the window. Keith slips quietly under the covers and leaves a good space between them just in case, sighing softly as the mattress dips beneath him and his head sinks into the pillow. Shiro is looking at him now, eyes bright and beautiful and full of fondness. The tiny, nearly nonexistent sappy side of Keith thinks that, if he leans close enough, he can see the stars reflected in Shiro’s eyes. He pulls the blanket up to his face to hide a potential blush even in the darkness of the room. 

“Keith,” Shiro’s murmur is barely audible. Keith understands why he chose that side of the bed when his fingers tug the blanket away.   

“Yes, Shiro?” His voice is hoarse with sleep and his vision is bleary already.

Keith fights his weariness, tries to keep his eyes open, but it's hard and they're watering, and his body is begging him to rest, but Shiro - Shiro was about so say something and he's more important than anything. Keith loves him and will still sacrifice himself for Shiro regardless of how he feels. Maybe he loves him too, maybe he doesn't, and Keith tries to assure himself that it's okay, that he doesn't need it to be mutual, that having Shiro around and alive is enough, but it  _ hurts _ not knowing. The possibility that the feeling is one sided leaves Keith feeling a peculiar kind of pain. 

He truly, honestly, really, desperately wants to clear things up, wants to repeat the words whether Shiro remembers them or not, wants to know if it’s reciprocated, but at the same time doesn’t want to face this just yet, doesn’t want Shiro to think he owes Keith something for bringing him back.

Shiro’s lips part, but shut again shortly after, having given up on whatever he was going to say. Instead, he curls his fingers around Keith’s sleeve and gives it a slight tug, coaxing him in silence to come a little closer. He complies. He’s not going to deny Shiro some physical comfort when he asks for it, even if his heart is doing somersaults in his chest and his nerve endings are thrumming when their bodies touch. They are best friends first and foremost, and he’s not going to let his feelings change or get in the way of that. 

Keith traces his fingers up and down Shiro’s spine, the light touch meant to be comforting. Shiro has his own working on dark strands, combing through Keith’s hair tenderly, pushing him closer and closer to dreamland. 

If Shiro turns him down, at least he’ll have this memory, so Keith allows himself to enjoy the moment, even if it might hurt him in the future.

“Keith,” he whispers again, breath playing with strands of hair on his forehead. 

Keith’s only response is to tighten his arm around Shiro’s waist, bury his face deeper in his neck. They both smell the same. Everyone in this house smells the same, a minty scent for the shampoo and fennel of the soap. But on Shiro, it smells infinitely better. 

“I remember,” Shiro says, but Keith is too tired, mind too sluggish. He makes a noncommittal noise and succumbs to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> | [tumblr](https://chinarai.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/chinaraii) | [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/chinarai) |


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